Three Steps Backwards
by Caliente
Summary: AU Roomies fic set after season 12 –– Ray and Neela are broken. Will they be able to fix it or is it over for good?
1. The End

**Author's Note: **All right, my first try at a _real_ ER fic, instead of a one-shot. This takes place sometime after the end of season 12 (mostly because it was written before season 13 began). Basically, it's just my idea about how Ray and Neela might pull the pieces together. No Gates and no triangle. Don't like him, don't like it. Lemme have my roomies already! Uh… right. On with the show then!  
**Disclaimer: **Pretty much don't own anything at all, especially not ER or any characters mentioned.

**Three Steps Backwards**  
by, Caliente

**Chapter 1: The End**

It took three tries before he could force himself to knock on her door. He would've kept pacing longer, but with every second that passed he became more and more afraid that she would simply open the door and find him standing there in this sorry state like some kind of creepy stalker. No, it was now or never. Taken long enough to get here, damn it—he was going to see this one through. He had to.

"Hang on a minute!" He heard her accented voice float through the door, a mixture of exhaustion and clipped annoyance. It was a tone he'd heard many times before, most often aimed at him. Not the mood he'd been hoping to find her in tonight, though. "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm—" The door swung open and her voice stopped cold for a long moment. "Ray?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ray Barnett smiled weakly. How could someone so short put so much fear in him? "Hey, Neela," he greeted with a shrug. "I, uh… must've forgotten where I lived."

Neela rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha." She moved away from the door and gestured for him to come in before turning her back to him and pushing her way through Abby's apartment. "I don't know why you're here, but I was just eating a bowl of cereal. Sans milk, since I once again forgot it at the store. Honestly, I don't know what made me think I…" she trailed off when she caught sight of Ray's face again. "Ray? Are you even listening?"

Turning to blink at her, Ray tried to force his smile to return. It was mostly a vain attempt. "Huh?" he responded intelligibly. "I mean… yeah." He gauged her for a response, hoping it'd been the right one.

The look on her face told him it wasn't. "Ray, what's wrong with you?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "And what are you doing here, anyway? I haven't seen you going on a week now," the joys of opposite shifts, "and I'm sure we've been dancing around each other for much longer."

"You didn't return my calls," he bit out before he could stop himself. Fuck. That wasn't… fuck. Ray mentally berated himself for his own stupidity.

If it were possible, Neela's face tightened even further. "You're right," she said finally, allowing it to relax ever so slightly. "And I'm sorry for that. I was—I just needed some time." She shook her head lightly before looking up at him again. "But, Ray, is everything all right with you?"

Ray started to open his mouth to say yes, then he shut it again. He looked at her for a long moment, the weight of what he'd come there to do dragging his stomach to his shoes. "I… no. No, Neela, it's not."

"Well, what is it, then?" she asked, her patience obviously wearing thin as her arms crossed in a decidedly defensive manner. Yep, this was going swell. "Ray," she snapped her fingers in his face, a worried expression betraying her tone, "what's going on?"

Steeling himself, he took a careful breath. "Neela, I… I have three things to tell you." Ray paused long enough to silently berate himself again before continuing. "Firstly, I'm sorry for…" He shook his head lightly. There were too many things. Too many moments lost. Too many words unsaid. Too much history. "I'm just sorry."

"Ray—"

Shaking his head with more strength, Ray silenced her with a look. "Secondly, I'm putting my two weeks in at County at the end of this week. My old college roommate just moved to Miami and offered me a couch to sleep on, so I'm packing it in." He couldn't stay anymore. He just… couldn't.

Neela blinked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Miami," she repeated quietly, shaking her head with disbelief. "Oh, Ray…"

"Thirdly… I—I wanted you to know I meant what I said to you. The day you left. I…" Ray lifted his hand as if to move a strand of hair from her face, but remembered himself and let it go limp again. "You're the best friend I've ever had. Really." Neela moved to respond but he cut her off again. "I know you already know what I'm about to tell you. I couldn't say it then but I… I couldn't leave without…" He met her gaze and that was it. He was done. "Neela, I—I love you."

There was a very long moment of silence between them, eyes locked in a silent battle. "You love me," she repeated finally. It wasn't exactly a statement, but it wasn't a question either. It just sort of… was. "You—Ray…" Without warning, she socked him in the shoulder. "You love me? _That's_ what you came here to tell me!" Short as she was, she packed a pretty mean whack. Which she proceeded to demonstrate on Ray repeatedly.

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Ray cried, grabbing her arms to stop her from her assault. "Look, I—I know that's why you moved out. And I'm sorry." She gave him a look and he stared back defiantly. "I mean it, I am. And if I could change how I feel, I _would_, okay? But I can't."

"And that's why you're leaving," she finished, jerking her arms from his grasp and crossing them again. "You know, Ray, I know you're a lot of things—a lot of _not very good_ things—but I never figured you for a coward."

Ray's mouth opened and shut a few times as he spluttered. "A—you—but—" Taking a deep breath, he composed himself just enough to form a coherent sentence. "_I'm_ a coward!" His eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "What the fuck was I supposed to do, Neela? You were married!" Fuck. He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

For her part, Neela seemed pretty shell-shocked over the whole thing. That didn't stop her from slapping him. Twice. The third time, he caught her arm and she struggled for a moment before letting out a noise of annoyance. "You have no right to say that to me, Ray," she bit out, voice quivering with rage. "None. Michael—"

"Left you," he cut in with equal venom. "He left you and we… we played house while he was gone." She looked rather put off by that comment, and he gave her a look that told her he didn't mean it _that_ way. "I tried to ignore it. I tried not to care. I tried but…"

Neela sighed in a defeated sort of way. "Yeah." It was as much an agreement as it was an admission, but he refused to acknowledge that.

Fuck, it wasn't right. She was a widow now and he… he was just a heartsick loser who somehow managed to fuck up the best thing in his life without even realizing it. "Yeah."

They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. His hand wrapped around her wrist was the only thing reminding him that this was real. Finally, Neela cleared her throat. "I think you should be going now. Good luck in Miami."

Dropping her arm in surprise, Ray looked at her. "So, that's it?" He shook his head with disbelief. "That… that can't be it."

Eyes narrowing, Neela crossed her arms for the umpteenth time. Defensive. She was always so defensive. Why wouldn't she just open up to him? "Well, it bloody well is," she snapped bitterly. "So deal with it."

"No." It was out his mouth before he even thought about it. Ray crossed his arms back at her, a serious frown on his face.

"No?" she questioned, eyebrows furrowing as she stared up at him in a mixture of confusion and contempt. "Why the hell not? I mean, what is it that you thought was going to happen here, Ray?" Her voice was shriller than normal, a sure sign that she was loosing what little cool she had managed to maintain.

"I don't know," was all he offered. All he could offer. Not that it made much of a difference—Ray doubted that she heard him at all.

"Did you think this would change anything between us? Somehow make things better?" He didn't answer. He didn't have one. "Well—did you?" There were tears forming in her eyes and she beat her fists against his chest. "Answer me, damn it!"

"No," he repeated quietly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. She didn't put up much of a struggle this time. "I know it won't make things better. I just… I…" He used one hand to lift her chin and gave her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. "I'm sorry." He backed away slowly, shoulders hunched.

Her fingers touching her lips lightly as she watched him go, dropping them quickly when he turned at the doorframe. She opened her mouth to call after him but the words wouldn't come out. The words to tell him it was okay. That even though she'd loved and married Michael, she was in love with him. That it wasn't his fault for ruining them—it was hers. She wanted to say a lot of things. But no words came out. And she found herself unable to do anything except watch him walk away.

It was a long time before Neela moved or even made a sound. "Huh, so that's how it feels," she murmured to the empty room, touching her lips one last time. Then she turned away from the door and collapsed onto the couch, a mess of limbs and tears.

Outside, Ray punched a wall. Several times. Bloodied his knuckles, praying with each punch that he would feel. Feel _something_. Anything. Just like he had tried with all those girls that weren't Neela. Hadn't worked then, and it wasn't working now. "Fuck," he grunted, giving up finally and putting pressure on his wounds. Shaking his head, he pulled his collar up and headed for the nearest bar. Nothing left here but a broken heart and an even more broken friendship.

It was over.

* * *

Love reviews. Really. Feel free to leave as many as you like… (; 


	2. The Middle, Part 1

**Author's Note: **First of all, thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! You guys are awesomeness incarnate. (: Let's see, a few continuity notes (this story was written before season 13)… Why is Carter there? Because I like Carter, that's why. Same thing goes for Albright (I don't like that new guy, ew). For all intents and purposes, Sam's story in season 13 can apply. Either way, she's been back. And, in my land, Kerry's still the boss lady. I think that about covers all the discrepancies! Any others can be attributed to the slight AU vibe that's been built. Yeah.  
**Disclaimer: **Check chapter one!

**Three Steps Backward**  
by, Caliente

**Chapter 2: The Middle, Part 1**

It was safe to say that Archie Morris loved the sound of his own voice. He loved it far more than most people liked listening to it, and rarely, if ever, picked up on that fact. "Miami's hot, you know," he was saying as he followed Ray Barnett through the halls of County General. "And I bet there're a lot of old people. I hear Florida has a lot of old people."

Ray sighed, rubbing his eyes and shook his head once. "Don't you have someone else you can bother, Morris?" he asked in a tired voice. This was on the list of things he'd like to do if and only if hell froze over. "I'm trying to do some work here."

The redhead ignored him, oblivious as always. And egocentric. For reasons unknown, he was taking Ray's departure rather personally. Like they'd been friends or something. Weird. "I mean, I know it can seem appealing—have you seen _Nip/Tuck_? With the… I mean it's so…" Archie shook his head. "But it's not really like that. I'm sure." He paused and Ray prayed he'd go away. "Hey, sure you don't need another roommate or something?"

Damn. He never was that lucky. Why was he never that lucky? "No," Ray answered soundly. "Besides, you just got back, man. You can't leave again." He smirked as he caught sight of Dr. Albright and nodded his head in her direction. "They _need _you here."

Archie's face lit up as he looked at her. "Did she say something about me while I was gone?" he asked hurriedly under his breath, eyes never leaving the attractive surgeon. Ray'd probably be right there with him, if she weren't such a colossal bitch. Not even waiting for a response (not that Archie would've listened, anyway), and apparently forgetting about his original point, the other doctor wandered toward her awkwardly.

Smirking to himself, Ray ducked his head and moved back to work. That couldn't have worked out better if he'd planned it that way. Looking at the chart in his hand, then the patient in curtain two, he smiled gently. "All right, Mrs. Goldstein," he said, taking a seat by her gurney, "when did you first notice the pain in your arm?"

* * *

From the moment she set foot in County General, Neela could feel the eyes on her. Whether they were still because of Michael or now caused by Ray, she couldn't be certain, but what she did know was she was at the end of her rope and about five seconds from biting the head off the next person who crossed her path. Frank became her first victim.

"Hey Rasgotra," the desk clerk greeted in his usual guttural tone, "Weaver said to find her soon as you get in."

Neela glanced up from the messages left for her to see the sympathetic look on his face. A grimace formed on her lips. "If you have something to say, Frank, just say it," she prompted, irritation evident in her voice. "Otherwise, stop looking at me like I'm some kind of bleeding time bomb."

Trying to look nonchalant and macho, the former cop shrugged. "Hey, if it was me and I lost my husband and my ex-roommate-with-benefits or whatever, I'd be a little down. Wouldn't want you to freak out like that creep Clemente did."

"Frank!" the nearby Sam admonished, a look of disgust on her face.

The older man rolled his eyes and looked at her. "What?"

The look on Sam's face said it all. "Just stop it!" She shook her head. "Honestly, you're getting to be as bad as _Jerry_."

Frank looked highly offended at that comment, but wisely chose to answer the now ringing phone, grumbling about uppity nurses and uptight residents. Neela, on the other hand, had a look of horror on her face. "Roommates-with-benefits?" she asked Sam as she headed toward the elevator that would take her to Weaver's office.

"Don't look at me," she responded with a shrug. "I just work here."

Frowning, Neela nodded her good-bye. Rolling her eyes at the sheer audacity of a claim like Frank's, she ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach that told her it wasn't really such a large leap to take, considering how things had been between her and Ray before she moved out. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms as she focused her attention on waiting for the elevator. That was a lot safer a topic to be thinking about.

* * *

For John Carter, visiting County General when he wasn't working there was like visiting his parent's house when he wasn't living there; awkward and familiar. He'd been hanging around for the better part of an hour, listening to the gossip and visiting with his friends in the ER while Dakarai received what they hoped would be his last treatment from the best doctors in County.

He was in the admit area when Ray found out he was there. "Carter," he greeted with a half-smile, offering his hand. John shook it with a small smile of his own. "What brings you back from the exotic life?"

"Just a visit," John replied, his smile growing. "A friend from Darfur needed some extensive treatment, so," after manu long arguments, "I managed to convince him to come here and get it."

Raising his eyebrows with curiosity, Ray nodded. "I'm glad your friend's getting the help he needs."

"Yeah, me too," John agreed. It'd taken a lot or work to get here, but at least now Dakarai had a shot at living to keep up his work. There was a pause between them and Ray was about half a second from returning to his work when John spoke again. "So, I heard you're moving down to Miami in a few weeks." He smirked slightly at the younger doctor. "Gonna be hot there, you know."

Shrugging, Ray put his charts down. "It's hot here, too. At least in Miami there isn't any snow." The less abuse for his van, the better. That van was his baby and it deserved better than that.

"True," John agreed with a nod. He eyed the doctor standing before him for a moment, then leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. "I'm just surprised, I suppose." He gestured to the space around them. "This place—it has a knack for pulling you in."

Ray followed his gesturing, eyes lingering on Neela's name on the board. "Yeah…" He looked back at John. "I guess I just needed a change."

"Has a knack for doing that, too," John commented wryly. Then he smiled. "I know we didn't always get along, Barnett," he started, uncrossing his arms again and offering his hand this time, "but good luck in Miami. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Shaking the ex-attending's hand, he found himself unable to smile back. "Thanks," he replied as he picked up a new chart, though the sentiment rang hollow. He'd already found what he was looking for. Unfortunately, she hadn't wanted to be found by him. "I'll see you around."

"See you," John replied, smiling when he caught sight of Abby walking toward him with a friendly look on her face. Ray watched them catch up for a moment, ignoring the strained feeling in his chest. Then he turned away and headed back to work. The sooner this shift was over, the better.

* * *

Few people had ever thought nice words when thinking up adjectives to describe Kerry Weaver. But she was not without compassion for both her patients and employees. A fact that was evident as Neela entered her office—the look on her face mirrored Frank's far too much for her liking. "You, uh, wanted to see me?" she prompted as her greeting.

"Please, take a seat, Neela," Kerry said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. Neela complied readily, preventing her body from going rigid as best she could. "I know you're busy, so I won't keep you long. First of all, I wanted to congratulate you on your surgical elective."

There was a small lull, and Neela smiled tightly. "Thank you, Dr. Weaver."

Kerry returned her smile, though with more sincerity than Neela could muster. "Secondly, I… I just wanted to check on you."

Neela blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I know how hard it can be to lose—" Kerry cut herself off, closing her eyes for a moment. "Michael was…" Neela's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. Michael? Even Weaver wanted to talk to her about Michael! God. This was… it was… "He was a good doctor. A fine soldier. A great man." Neela's mouth went dry, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. "I want you to know, if you're having any trouble or need someone to talk to…" She patted Neela's hand gently. "We—I don't want you getting yourself into anything you can't handle right now."

Taking a calming breath, Neela couldn't stop her eyes from narrowing at her boss. "With all due respect, Dr. Weaver, I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth, but she ignored it. "And I am perfectly capable of doing my job. I think I've proven that much by now." She stood stiffly, eyes locking onto Kerry's. She wasn't afraid. She could handle this. She was strong. "So, if that's all…"

Kerry nodded once as she stood as well. She was tempted to call after the young doctor as she hurried from the room, but held herself back at the last moment. She couldn't force Neela to talk with her about Michael any more than anyone else could've forced her to talk about Sandy after she'd died.

Outside Dr. Weaver's office, Neela stalked angrily back toward the ER. She was tired of everyone treating her like she might break down at any moment. Hadn't she proven she was tough enough to handle it? Honestly. The lot of them could just go sod off. She was just so… so _angry_. Angry with Weaver and Frank and everyone else for their sympathy. Angry with Pratt for knowing Michael better than she had. Angry with Ray for… everything. Angry with herself for failing him.

Without her consent, tears sprang from her eyes. A few even managed to roll down her cheeks before she shoved her way into the nearest bathroom and splashed some water on her face. "Calm down," she ordered her reflection, ignoring the quivering of her lip. "Toughen up. You've got work to do." Patting her face with a paper towel, she took a few deep breaths and blew her nose. She would not lose it. She would not lose it. She would not.

Straightening her outfit, she ignored the sadness visible in her own eyes. "There," she whispered, carefully tucking her hair behind her ears and ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach that told her things were going to get worse before they got better. "Much better." She nodded one last time to herself, then set back toward admit. To work. The only thing she had left. Shame it wasn't more of a comfort…

* * *

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	3. The Middle, Part 2

**Author's Note: **Sorry this one took a bit longer to get up, I caught a wicked cold. Awful. I miss breathing. Anyway, I want to again thank all the wonderful reviewers who've stuck with me. I know it seems bleak but, trust me, we're getting there. Again, continuity has taken a bit of a beating again. Mostly regarding Kovač because, at the time that I wrote it, I had no idea how serious the injuries he incurred in _21 Guns_ were. Everything else should be fine, but, again slight AU! It's okay. You like it. No, really, you do.  
**Disclaimer: **Still in Chapter 1, y'all.

**Three Steps Backward**  
by, Caliente

**Chapter 3: The Middle, Part 2**

Greg Pratt had been accused of a lot of things in his short life. A lot of rather unkind things, mostly. But, beyond the arrogance and bravado, he really did care. About the job, about his patients, and about his coworkers. Even the ones he didn't like very much. "So I hear you're leaving," he commented off-handedly to his resident after they'd stabilized their trauma patient.

Ray blinked at his attending (wow, weird) before shrugging. "Yeah. Can't afford my rent anymore and I got a buddy down there who's looking for a new roommate."

Rolling his eyes, Greg nodded his head toward the other trauma room where Neela was working on their patient's daughter, who had presented with a broken leg. "That's a load of crap. I think we both know the _real_ reason you're leaving."

"Hey, you don't know shit, man," Ray retorted before closing his eyes and shaking his head lightly. Great, way to prove Pratt's point for him. He'd never hear the fucking end of it now.

Greg was smirking at him, and Ray decided at that moment he hated karma. "Right." He skimmed the chart in his hands quickly before signing off on the bottom and looking back at Ray with a more serious expression on his face. "You know, when I told you to give her some space, I didn't mean seven states' worth."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Ray frowned. "Whatever." He moved to leave, but Greg stepped into his path.

"Hey." Greg raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "You were being clingy. She'd just lost her husband, she needed space. I was just trying to help."

"Well, maybe I didn't want your help," Ray snapped, trying to push his way past the other man. "Maybe I just wanted my best friend back."

Greg raised his eyebrows at Ray. "_Sure_ you did."

It took all Ray had not to punch him just then. "Look," he ground out, "I just wanted to make sure Neela was okay, okay? That's _all_." Greg opened his mouth to respond but Ray suddenly continued, "I mean, God. What is with everyone? Nothing happened!" He forced his gaze to stay on the man before him and not drift toward her. "Nothing. Not before she was married, and definitely not after. I'm not that kind of guy." Greg smirked. "I'm _not_."

The smirk dropped from his face and Greg frowned lightly. "I didn't say you were," he responded in a placating tone. "I'm just saying—"

"I know what you're saying," Ray cut in angrily. "I know what all of you are saying. So you can just stop it. I'm leaving; that settles it once and for all." This time, when he went to push past Pratt, the other man didn't make any moves to stop him.

"I care for her too, you know," he said, instead, just loud enough that Ray could hear him as he pushed open the doors to Trauma 2.

Ray paused for a moment, head hanging slightly, but refusing to turn back. "I know." He shook his head. "I just wish I could stop." Then he stalked out, never once looking behind him.

* * *

"Busy" didn't begin to describe the state of Abby Lockhart's life as of late. Even with her time off work, she found herself at the hospital more often than not. She split her time between her new baby—who was still in the NICU and would remain there for another week—and Luka, who was in outpatient recovery. If her body hadn't already been stressed out, it was now. Nobody was surprised that she was thoroughly exhausted, least of all Neela, who found her passed out on the couch in the lounge. 

"Abby," she said, lightly shaking her friend's shoulder. "I know you're tired, but—"

"But what?" her friend grumbled in response, sluggishly trying to push herself up. "I feel like I haven't slept in…" She gave up the struggle and collapsed back down. "Ever! I feel like I've never slept before. Can't I just have five more minutes…?"

Neela tried not to laugh. Pouring a cup of the sludge the ER staff called coffee for her friend, she helped Abby into a sitting position and handed her the mug. "Here," she said with a soft smile. "If nothing else, this will surely wake you up."

Forgoing her better judgment, Abby took a rather large gulp. Then she made a face. "Eugh, because it's awful!" she cried, springing up to fix a fresh pot. "I told you never to let Chuny or Morris near this machine!"

Raising her hands defensively, Neela shrugged. "What can I say? I've been distracted." It was meant to sound light, but it held far too much weight for that.

Abby smiled sadly at her, nodding. She'd never really been one to beat around the bush, so she decided to let the elephant in the room out. "I heard Ray's leaving."

Neela ducked her head, busying herself with putting things in her locker. "Yeah. Moving to Miami."

Crossing over to her friend, Abby put a hand on her shoulder. "Neela…"

"I'm fine, Abby," she said stiffly. "It's fine. He wants to pack up and go, that's his business."

Abby frowned. "What happened?" she asked, taking another gulp of the bitter liquid.

"Nothing," Neela responded quickly. Too quickly. And she knew it, too. Sighing, she turned around and leaned back against the lockers. "You know, when I married Michael, I had all these… all these ideas about how it was going to be. I thought… I mean, I loved him. Shouldn't that have been enough?" She covered her face with her hands. "Why wasn't it enough?" She shook her head, sniffling lightly.

Pulling her friend to her for a hug, Abby stroked her hair lightly. "I don't know," she whispered sadly. It was all she could offer.

With all the strength she could muster, Neela pushed away from Abby to stand on her own. Strong. She had to stay strong. "But then Ray… it was so comfortable. But I couldn't betray Michael that way." Abby's eyes widened and Neela shook her head. "Not like _that_. Just… how could I know Ray better than I knew my own husband? I couldn't…" Her eyes dropped to the floor. "Sometimes I have trouble even picturing his face."

"Neela, it's okay," Abby consoled, eyes clouded with concern. "I think—listen, you might not want to hear this but… maybe you should talk to Luka."

Neela blinked. That was not what she'd expected to hear from her friend. She'd gotten plenty of unwanted advice and offers to listen if she felt the need to be the weak damsel everyone seemed to think she was. But this… "Yeah," she agreed, still slightly stunned. Then she tried to smile—it sort of worked. "How is he doing, anyway?"

Brightening considerably, Abby began to inform Neela about the status of both her boyfriend and their new baby. Listening intently, Neela was relieved to hear about someone else's life for a change. She was already living hers. Talking about it to death was starting to drive her a little loopy.

* * *

In all the years that Jerry Markovic had worked for the ER, he had never been a patient there. Oh sure, he got his yearly checkups and things like that, but when he got shot he finally saw the doctors and nurses in their element. It was like seeing them for the first time… and it scared the crap out of him. His stay was nearly over and he still wasn't sure what he thought about it. 'Course, he'd still have plenty of time to mull it over in the weeks to come. 

"Hey, Jerry," Ray greeted, a friendly smile on his face. "I just wanted to check on you, buddy. I hear they're going to discharge you in a couple of days."

Feigning a smile of his own, Jerry nodded. "Yeah." He paused, watching Ray look over his chart. "I hear you gave Weaver your two weeks."

Despite all the crap, Ray couldn't help but crack a smile. Even with his injuries and being laid up at the hospital, Jerry was still the man when it came to knowing just about everything at the hospital. "It's true," he confessed, putting the chart down. "Just time to move on, I guess."

There was sympathy on Jerry's face, but he chose not to voice his thoughts. Instead, he offered his hand to the standing doctor. "Well then, good luck." Appreciative, Ray shook it gently in an attempt to avoid aggravating any of his wounds. Jerry winced slightly but kept smiling through the pain. "And thanks. Really." His expression turned serious. "Without you and Pratt…" He shook his head. "I'm glad you were here that night, man."

Surprised, Ray kept shaking Jerry's hand dumbly for a moment before dropping it and nodding. "Hey, it was no problem, Jerry." He gave a friendly wave as he moved to leave. "I'll be back to check on you again before you leave…"

"You better!" Jerry called after him. "None of this leaving without a good-bye crap, Barnett. We're a family here!" Then he smirked to himself as he lay back down. Huh. Guess he knew the answer to his question, after all. Go figure.

* * *

It took all of Luka Kovač's willpower not to kill his nurse. It wasn't that she was a bad nurse, exactly, but the way she kept coming in every five seconds… if he had to see her face one more time, he was going to let her have it. Granted, it would probably be morphine-induced and in Croatian, but she'd know what he meant. He was sure of it. So when there was a gentle knock at the door, he croaked out a frustrated, "What?" followed by a couple of coughs. At least, that's what he thought he'd said. 

Neela's head popped in and she blushed lightly. She should've known better. The man was still recovering from his muscle strain and paralysis. Why was she bothering him now? "I'm sorry," she apologized, ducking her head. "I'll just come back later, when you're feeling better…"

"No, no," he shook his head and beckoned for her to enter. She did, closing the door gently behind her. "It's fine, Neela. What can I do you for?" He blinked, focusing his eyes. "Do for you."

Struggling to find the words, she finally sighed and headed for a chair by his bed. "I, uhm… I know you're still recovering and, er, how are you, anyway?" Yeah, way to avoid the topic. Nice work.

"Confused," he answered with a disarming grin. Neela felt her stomach flutter for a moment, and she remembered why she'd had a crush on him oh-so-long ago. "What's wrong?"

Another sigh. Neela sat back and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Nothing I just…" She steeled herself against her own feelings—all the guilt and anger—and bit the bullet. "I was wondering… can I ask you about your…" she winced slightly, "your family? In Croatia."

A look that Neela had never seen on Luka's face fell into place for a long moment before he nodded heavily. "Yes, I think…" He looked her straight in the eyes. "I think I would like that very much." Maybe it was the morphine talking, or the look in her eyes she'd carried since Michael's death. Hell, maybe it was the prospect of a real doctor scaring the annoying nurse away. But, whatever the reason, he found he meant what he said. He just hoped Neela wouldn't mind the morphine slur.

* * *

Three down, one to go. Like it, hate it—don't forget to drop me a line. 


	4. The Beginning

**Author's Note: **And here we are! At the bitter end. Once again, I'd like to thank my reviewers. You guys are all darlings and I appreciate every bit of it. We're definitely hitting full AU here, since season 13 really doesn't look like this. (; But that's okay. Anyway, there's not much to say—the chapter pretty much speaks for itself. So, here she be.  
**Disclaimer: **Chapter 1 is where it's at!

**Three Steps Backward**  
by, Caliente

**Chapter 4: The Beginning**

The nurses at County General were famous for their gossip. Somehow, they always seemed to know all the little things that were happening. The inner workings of the hospital could almost always be found out by hanging around the admit desk long enough. Didn't matter how secret something was supposed to be—if the nurses knew, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the hospital was informed, too.

"Carter was here?" Chuny was questioning Malik and Frank as Neela arrived at the admit desk with some charts. She'd heard that one herself.

"Yeah. Guess one of those Sudanese leeches needed something done right for a change," Frank responded gruffly, causing Neela to roll her eyes at the chart on her flu patient. "Heard he's thinking about throwing some kind of bash for his ex-coworkers while they're in town."

Neela's eyes darted up, eyebrows raising lightly. Well, that was new. "Where?" Malik asked curiously. "His grandmother's place? I heard that place is pimped out!"

"Pimped out?" Frank repeated. "What is that, some Ebonics crap?"

Malik glared. Chuny looked highly offended. Haleh, who had just joined the trio, did both. "You want a lawsuit, don't you?" she questioned icily. "A big one might let me retire in style, too."

Frank ignored them, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "I guess it's just supposed to be a 'friendly affair' or something. Maybe a going away party for Barnett, too." All three nurses' eyes widened and Chuny elbowed Frank in the gut. "Ow! What the f—?"She nodded her head toward Neela who had been hidden by Malik and he grimaced. "Is that the, uh, fax machine?" he asked suddenly, busying himself on the other side of the desk.

Haleh, Chuny, and Malik shared a look before each scurried off to each of their respective patients, the last of the group patting her on the shoulder as he went. Neela rubbed her eyes and sighed. It was going to be a long shift if she had to put up with this crap the whole time. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that her shift was actually almost over. Blinking twice, she decided that living on coffee, beer and chocolate was starting to mess with her mind.

"Frank, could you please call Radiology and tell them I've been waiting on Mr. Pierce's x-rays for over an hour," she asked, ignoring their previous topic. He didn't respond. "Frank?" Nothing. "Frank!"

The older man jumped slightly. "What?" Then he looked at her. "Oh, it's you."

Neela frowned. "Call Radiology."

Rolling his eyes, Frank crossed his arms. "Do I look like the operator to you?"

"Frank!" Neela snapped, annoyed.

"Fine, fine. Jeez." He headed toward the phones, shaking his head. "You don't have to get your panties in a twist."

Making a noise of disgust, Neela grabbed a chart and quickly moved out of the admit area before she made Frank their latest patient. "Honestly!" she muttered to herself, lip curling with disgust. "That man is so—so—" She was cut off when her shoulder clipped another body and she dropped her chart. Dropping into a crouch, she reached to grab it, but the person she bumped beat her to it. She looked up to see who it was, and her jaw went slack. "—aggravating." Neela blinked. "I mean—Ray!" She winced slightly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Ray stood, offering his hand to help her up. She ignored him and stood on her own. "Don't sweat it," he replied, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "I, uhm… yeah." Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he offered her the chart back and she took it gratefully. "Well, uh, patients to see." He nodded lightly toward her before headed off.

Watching him go, Neela opened her mouth to say something, and then promptly clamped it shut again. What else was there to say? Glancing at her chart with a sad expression on her face, she headed off toward Curtain 1. The point would be moot soon enough, anyway.

* * *

For not the first time that night, Ray asked himself what the hell he was doing. He didn't belong there, celebrating with Carter and Dakarai and the ER staff in the swanky 'Carter Family Home'. He didn't want all the attention from his coworkers. Mostly, though, he didn't want to see Neela. So, nursing a beer, he wandered out toward the backyard, offering half-hearted waves and smiles to his various well-wishers. 

"Hey," he heard a quiet voice greet from behind him. Turning slowly, he found himself looking at the one person he'd been avoiding all night. "I thought it was you."

Taking a swig of his beer, he sat away from her on a stone bench in front of the well-lit pool area. "Hey," he responded unenthusiastically. "What's up?"

It was about this time that Neela questioned the wisdom of seeking him out in the first place. But she knew Luka was right—she couldn't let herself be ruled by the guilt. She'd made her peace with Michael; it was time to do the same with Ray. Narrowing her eyes with renewed focus, she studied the man before her. He looked so… defeated. It hurt her to see him this way. "Nothing, I just…I didn't want you to leave with things… like _this_ between us." She looked at him hopefully. "We're still friends, right?"

A snort escaped before Ray could stop it. He grimaced lightly. "Friends?" he repeated, the sarcasm practically palpable as he shook his head softly. "Right."

"Ray, I'm serious," she insisted, tone betraying the annoyance she was already feeling.

Ray rolled his eyes and drank his beer. "You're always serious, Neela."

Opening her mouth to object, Neela was suddenly struck by something else entirely. "Did you mean it?" she asked in an accusing tone.

A confused expression on his face, he blinked at her a few times. "Mean what?"

"When you said… do you really wish you didn't…" She struggled to find the words, but they eluded her. "…about me?" The defeated look returned and Ray was about to take another swig of beer when her hand grabbed his wrist to stop him, her eyes pleading with his. "Please, just… did you?"

Ray grimaced. "Does it matter?"

A sad look on her face, Neela sighed lightly. "It matters to me." Her voice wasn't particularly strong or commanding, but it still managed to say everything her words didn't.

Running a hand down his face, Ray let out his own sigh. "If it meant keeping you in my life? Yeah…" he nodded lightly. "I'd give it up a thousand times over." Dropping his wrist, she nodded, and turned to leave. He was quick to stand, grabbing her arm to stop her. "But if I was going to lose you anyway," he continued, eyes boring holes through her, "I wouldn't change a second of it."

Her lips formed a small 'o' shape as she turned to face him completely. Eyes locked, the distance between them was slowly shrinking. Neela finally tore her eyes away, ducking her head slightly. "I don't want you to leave," she whispered, ignoring the tears pricking at the sides of her eyes. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"Hey," he used one hand to gently lift her chin, while the other wrapped around her waist. "That's my line." He smiled down at her and she found herself smiling back. A single tear rolled down her cheek and Ray gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Neither of them was sure how long they stood there, but all too soon the sounds of reality came rushing back. "We're missing the party," Neela commented, a sad smile on her face.

Ray leaned down, kissing her gently on the forehead. "So we miss it," he replied lightly, a smirk playing on his face.

Swatting at him, Neela felt the sadness lift from her face. "Still," she said with a resigned look on her face. "We should go back. Wouldn't want any nasty rumors getting spread about us, now would we?"

A pained look crossed Ray's face and he frowned. "Heard that one, huh?"

"Yep."

Anger replaced the frown. "Man, that's such bullshit! I told those guys—"

Neela laughed, placing a hand on his arm. "Relax, Ray. It's not a big deal. Besides…"

"Besides nothing," Ray cut in, a firm look on his face. "Looks like I'll have to stick around to defend your honor a bit longer."

It was Neela's turn to snort, though she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Yeah?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah. Hey, know anyone looking for a roommate? I already signed my lease over to someone else…"

Smirking, Neela pretended to think about it. "Funny you should mention that, I happen to be in the market now that Abby's moved in with Luka full-time and I've got to pay her entire rent myself…" She took a small step back and offered her hand. "Roommates?"

"I don't know…" Neela poked Ray in the side with her free hand and he smiled, giving her hand a shake and winking. "God, I'm going to regret this."

Neela rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up." But she didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she started leading him back toward the party. "Think it's about time this 'Farewell' party turned into a 'Welcome Back' one, don't you?"

Tugging on her arm so she spun back to face him, Ray smiled down at Neela. "Not just yet." He leaned down and gently kissed her, smoothly moving her hand from awkwardly holding his right to comfortably clasped with his left. "Okay, now we can go."

A small punch hit him square in the shoulder. "Wanker."

"But of course." He smirked. "Would you have it any other way?"

Leaning close to him, Neela just smiled in response.

* * *

And that was all she wrote! Thanks for sticking with me. And, if you enjoyed it, be sure and lemme know. (: Thanks again, guys! 


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